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Are all these things new, or am I only noticing them now that the veil of my misery has been lifted? It’s hard to tell, and in any case, there isn’t much time for introspection.
As soon as I’m settled back into my room, I’m summoned into a meeting with Mr Ambrose. I arrive to find all my teachers gathered in the room. The warmth with which they welcome me almost brings me to tears, but I manage to hold on to a semblance of dignity as they eagerly discuss how I’m going to get back on track.
My literature teacher explains that I need not worry too much about literature since my last mock exams all received full marks, and I’ve already learned most of the exam content. But I have fallen behind in my history and Russian classes, so the teachers come up with a timetable amongst themselves of extra sessions and one-on-one tutoring to get me caught up.
Once that’s sorted, Mr Ambrose gives me the two assignments I’ve missed for the Apostles programme. He doesn’t bother to ask me if I still wish to continue—and I’m glad for it. I had been bracing myself to plead with him to let me back in.
“One of these assignments has already been and gone, and the second is the assignment we’re currently on. There’s only you, Zachary and Sai left in the programme now—so work hard, Theodora.” Mr Ambrose’s face is one broad smile, beaming with kindness and pleasure. “You have some fierce competitors there, but you were the front-runner when you left. Time to reclaim your throne, my dear girl.”
I thank him before leaving, and just as I open his door, he says, “I could not be happier to have you back, Theodora.”
I pause in his doorway. “I could not be happier to be back, Mr Ambrose.”
“I know.”
Theweekendofmyreturn, my friends throw a little welcoming party in the girls’ common room.
It’s a far cry from the excess of Spearcrest parties or the debauchery of nights out in London. But it’s perfect for me, and I suspect that was part of the design.
There are some drinks and bite-sized snacks, which I cautiously sample, pushing back the instinctive wave of nausea. Camille tries to quiz me on what happened to me while I was away, but I remain vague with my answers, sticking to my story of being away for a family emergency.
“Never mind me and my boring family affairs,” I say, relaxing into one of the plush velvet couches in the common room. “I want to hear about Rose’s townie boyfriend.”
Rose’s face drops a little, and she exchanges a glance with Camille. At my side, Giselle stiffens but says nothing.
“He’s the loveliest man I’ve ever met,” Rose sighs in the tone of a lovelorn princess leaning at her window. “And he makes me feel so loved and safe.”
“And, apparently, he’s a beast in the sack,” Camille adds. “Better even than Mr Gold, by the sounds of it.”
“If we’re comparing men to vibrators, then the bar is getting too low,” Giselle points out.
There’s some invisible tension there, though I’m not sure why. Camille gives Giselle a smirk. “For the vibrators, you mean.”
We laugh, and I turn my attention back to Rose. “I think you did the smart thing, dating someone outside of Spearcrest.”
“Oh, right?” Rose says, sitting up enthusiastically and throwing her golden curls from her shoulder. “Spearcrest boys are so spoilt and immature. They have no idea what they want.”
“They just want whatever they can’t have,” Giselle points out. “That’s why they don’t want us. I can’t wait to go to university and finally date real men.”
Talk quickly turns to university, and soon, Rose has hijacked the conversation with a happy rant about going to fashion school in London and working on her first collection and launching her own couture line.
I listen happily enough to her pleasant patter, searching the room with my eyes.
Out of everyone who welcomed me back to Spearcrest, Inessa is the only person I’ve yet to talk to properly. I saw her briefly the first day I got back, but she just gave me a little shy wave before hastening away. At the time, I thought it was because I was surrounded by the most popular girls in Year 13, and I know she’s never liked them much.
But she’s not spoken to me since, and when I’ve tried to knock at her bedroom door, she’s always been out.
At first, I tell myself she’s probably busy studying for summer assessments. It’s not until the following week, when I spot her on her way to a lesson, that I finally realise what’s going on.
Our eyes meet across the sunlit corridor on the second floor of the Old Manor—I’m just coming out of my Russian class, she’s headed to hers. I wave a hand and smile. Her face falls when her eyes meet mine. She stops mid-step, turns, and then runs back the way she came from, leaving me standing, frozen in shock, in the middle of the corridor.
Inessa hasn’t been shy or busy.
She’s just been avoiding me.
Chapter 49
Friendly Fire
